


Delight in Dust Bunnies

by UglyTunaSandwich



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I hate it here, M/M, What the actual fuck, another cursed au ig cause im already thinking of the next one lmaoooo, anywho, broom, dustpan - Freeform, get ready for um, harimi, i got sad while writing this, i hate this fandom/j, im just a menace, like no one asked for this, nonbuhouki, suffer, this is the broom and dustpan au that literally no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29293239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UglyTunaSandwich/pseuds/UglyTunaSandwich
Summary: Amongst the dirt and grime, it's your heart that made my life shine
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 22
Kudos: 41





	Delight in Dust Bunnies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YanAnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YanAnie/gifts).



> i literally wrote this because i was choosing violence. i wanted ppl to know that there's a broom and dustpan au for this fucking ship. they never have to read it, but i want them to know it exists. and i want the light to leave their eyes when they are confronted with this information

Another year passes and another broom lays by the wayside. 

“I knew this broom was a piece of crap,” the woman says, tossing it out in the back. 

The trusty harimi scoffs. “Hmph, I could’ve told you that one.”

And so he’s alone again, waiting on a broom that could last more than a few months, maybe even a year. Anything to bring the woman peace. 

The next day, she comes home with...well this is new. Old, rather, to be precise. She walks in with a nonbuhouki, a traditional Japanese broom. Kiyoomi the harimi, a traditional Japanese dustpan, had never seen something so close to him in age. The woman usually went for the fancy brooms with three layers and extra bristles. It was intriguing. 

He was sure it was fleeting as well. “Huh, let’s see how long this lasts.”

It’s not long before she starts sweeping the house with it, covering every nook and cranny as she always does. It’s during this process that she finds herself at the same revelation as Kiyoomi. 

_ Oh my god, it  _ works!

Even with the extravagant new types they would miss entire sections of filth, letting the dust fester until it was unbearable. But  _ this. _ Now Kiyoomi  _ had  _ to introduce himself and meet this wonderful broom.

The woman begins excitedly chattering away on her phone, placing the broom and dustpan off to the side.

“Kaasan, subarashii yo! Arigatou! ...Hai! ...Hai!  _ Zenbun _ !”

“Hey.” 

Kiyoomi jumps at the little small voice next to him. “Oh, hi, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Your sweeping skills–” 

“ _ Amazing,  _ I know,” he cut off smugly. 

Oh great, he’s one of  _ those _ . 

“They were quite impressive, yes,” Kiyoomi admitted. Even though he was already putting a strain on his splinters, he couldn’t help but face the truth. He was good.  _ Really  _ good. Though he’d never say the “really” part out loud. 

“Hehe,” the broome giggled. “I know ‘cause Kaasan made me just for her, and she tested me out ‘n’ everythin’. I’m the best!” Kiyoomi could hear his bristles swell with pride. 

_ Handmade? _ Kiyoomi couldn’t blame him for his attitude. Kiyoomi was handmade as well, and he took deep satisfaction in knowing he couldn’t be recreated. Maybe they did have something in common. 

“What’s your name?”

“Atsumu. Yers?”

“Kiyoomi. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice ta meet ya, too.”

And so their life began. 

Annoyingly.

Kiyorimi couldn’t deny Nontsumu’s quality. It was an undeniable fact that he was the best broom they’d ever had. But  _ god  _ was he annoying. 

“Ya like that, Omi-kun?”

That nickname.

“See how I just got that tight spot? She didn’t even know she had dust there.”

That cocky attitude. 

“Hey Omi Omi, I just thought of a funny joke!”

Those dumb jokes that he  _ swore  _ were top tier!

_ It was all annoying.  _

The two lay by the door. The woman, now a wife, having swept after a family gathering. Kiyorimi thought it was a nice event, her family was always so sweet. However, there was one point of tension. Her mother kept asking about the broom and how it was holding up and the broom this and the broom that and– 

“Ya know, Omi, for somebody with no bristles, yer quite prickly.”

If Kiyorimi had a blood vessel, he definitely just popped it. “You know, for someone without a mouth, you never seem to shut the hell up.”

“Youch! That one’s a stinger!” Nontsumu laughed. “Though I feel like if ya wanted me to stop, you’d’ve already said somethin’. Hehe.”

“Tch.”

“I’m just sayin, Omi-kun.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Let’s be alone together!”

And if Kiyorimi had a fuse, it definitely just blew. 

Mornings, afternoons and evenings were filled with “Peek-a-boo! Did I scare ya?” and “Geez, there was a lot of dirt, don’t ya think?”

They were all accompanied by “No, you didn’t scare me, I can see you” and “There really was, I wondered what happened.”

They swept together, leaving the floor spotless after each session. Through the years, they both became a bit softer around the edges with each other. 

Small whispers of “Omi, you did really good with that last pile” became to fill Kiyorimi’s splinters with pride. As much as Nontsumu could compliment himself, he could give just the same. 

His jokes became more endearing. The way his bristles flared when he was upset was amusing. The way they’d flutter with anticipation when the woman’s son, as she was now a mother, walked over was almost...cute. 

They watched the kids in the new family grow, getting taller and voices deepening. They felt contentment and pride to have made it to another generation. Together. 

As the children grew and made children of their own, Nontsumu’s base began to thin. One or two lost bristles was not much more than an afterthought in his younger years, though they slowly began catching up with him. At first he started missing his usual tight corners and narrow passageways, leaving small piles of dust to be forgotten. The, now adult children, never noticed, but Kiyorimi did. 

“It’s fine, Omi. We all get old, but I still got it.” He did his best to reassure him, his voice losing its natural charm. 

“But what if they–”

“They won’t. Don’t even think like that. If anythin’, I’ll just get put in the storage closet is all.”

No. No. No. 

“‘Tsumu, who am I going to sweep with?”

“Omi, yer a great harimi, it doesn’t matter who–”

“Yes it  _ does. _ ”

Nontsumu let out a deep sigh. “Listen, I’ll always– aaahhhh!!”

The five year old, the woman’s grandchild, came over and began swinging Nontsumu around. 

“Round ‘n’ round ‘n’ round ‘n’ round!” She giggled and as she made rudimentary circles in the air. 

“Nezuko!” called her mother. “That’s not what we use brooms for. Dameda yo.”

“Haiiiiii…” she (unwillingly) obliged. She began crudely swinging the broom back and forth in her attempts to “sweep.” Kiyorimi watched as bristles flew back and forth, their once strong tethers snapping at their connection to the broom shaft. 

He watched Nontsumu wither away. 

He wanted to yell. He wanted to scream. 

_ Stop. Be gentle. Please. He’s all I have… _

The mother chuckled at the display. “Nezuko-chan, here let me show you.” He began walking toward her for guidance. 

Kiyorimi saw it in slow motion. 

The final swing to the right, in her mother’s direction. 

Her hand grasping the top of Nontsumu as her foot landed on the tailend of her bristles. 

The tension on the broom shaft. 

The splinters as he was torn in two.

“Uh-oh! It’s broken!”

Kiyomiri’s mind went blank. White noise filled the room. 

_ He’s broken. _

Nontsumu didn’t make a noise himself. He didn’t make a peep. All he had to offer was a look of sadness. Of comfort. Of despair. Of love. 

He didn’t need to say the words for them to reach Kiyorimi.

They both understood. 

– – – 

“The name’s Suguru.”

“Kiyoomi.”

It’s been a few hours. They were able to replace him within a few hours.

He remembers Nontsumu telling him about the days Obaasan spent on him. The time she spent spinning him together to be just right. Perfect. 

And they were so ready to easily replace him. 

Suguru was like the rest. A disgusting twist of nostalgia ran through Kiyorimi’s splinters. Those years of wondering if there was ever going to be any broom that  _ actually _ did the job. If he was going to have to settle with cycling through strangers until his wood rotted and his plank decomposed. Those years of agitation that were interrupted by one nonbuhouki.

His laughter, his presence, his jokes that softened Kiyorimi from within. 

And they were ready to replace him within hours. 

Suguru talked a lot. A  _ lot _ . But none of it was endearing. None of it was heartwarming. It wasn’t even annoying. It just felt empty. Much like Kiyorimi’s sense of being at this very moment. Empty.

He missed a lot, as expected. He must’ve loved the sound of his own voice, as Kiyomiri interjected with none other than the obligatory “Un. Souka? Sou desu ne.” 

The day dragged on, time more prevalent as he lost a relationship that felt timeless.

The father returned home late that evening, watching the mother sweep with Suguru, who was doing a poor job, by the way. 

“Oh, where’s the other broom?” he asked, oblivious to the tragedy.

“Mommy broke it!”

“Nezuko!” she chided. 

_ Huh, figures. _

“That’s fine, we can fix it.”

“Oh please, it’s so old. Besides, this one works just as fine, better even.”

“But where is it?” Kiyomiri could hear the concern in the father’s voice rising.

“I put it in the bin for to–”

“My grandmother made that broom! You can’t just  _ toss  _ it!”

“Geez, ochitsuke. Houki dake sa.”

The man deflated before her. Shrinking. Small. “It was the last thing she made…”

“Oh.” So simple, yet full of understanding. 

– – – 

A day went by. Then a week. There was no mention of Nontsumu. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it would be easier for Kiyorimi to forget. 

The mother is walking over. It was time for another session. 

Only it wasn’t. 

She took Suguru to…

“Where am I going? Keyami where am I going?”

As she shut the door to the storage closet, Kiyorimi said in a cold, deep, tone, “It’s Kiyoomi.”

He enjoyed temporary relief that was immediately washed out by anxiety and fear. 

_ This is too soon. This is  _ way _ too soon.  _

They  _ never _ got rid of a broom that fast.  _ Never.  _

He couldn’t help but ruminate over the many possibilities. The many routes that brought him here. 

The mother placed another broom next to him. He had no time to breathe. 

The broom’s shaft had a black to maroon gradient, with white diamonds towards the end, right before a familiar set of bristles. 

No.  _ No way. _

“‘Tsumu?” his heart asked.

“Hey.”

**Author's Note:**

> think about the fact that you just read a fic about skts as a fucking broom and dustpan. this is where your life brought you. you could say "but ah, you wrote this! ur insane!" well duh, wtf. but you. /you/ actually entertained my bullshit. you were an active participant. you read all 1.6k of this. welcome to the circus, we have a show at nine.
> 
> alrighty, time for official notes:
> 
> the one who really big brained this and brought us all suffering @notbluejam on twitter. there you can find official fanart of this au. yes, it has official fanart, and she drew it. the quality is too fucking good. this doesnt deserve to have such good art. this doesnt deserve to exist, if we're being honest. yet here we all are. 
> 
> https://twitter.com/notbluejam/status/1358565316935229447?s=20
> 
> yes it's still like that cause jordan still doesnt know how to do the link thing. leave me alone
> 
> if you enjoy cursed content 1) seek help and 2) follow me on twt where i never stfu @u_suspend


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